


She Moves With a Purpose

by unspuncreature



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, F/F, Female Anakin Skywalker, Female Obi-Wan Kenobi, Force Bond (Star Wars), I Don't Even Know, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Star Wars Legends, no beta we die like younglings :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspuncreature/pseuds/unspuncreature
Summary: There are nine marks of contact a Jedi may land on an opponent.Some low, rumbling part of her wanted to see Anakin show off, wanted to see the product of her careful instruction, of Anakin’s hard work. The bond rippled lightly between them, satisfaction wrought clear across Anakin’s face. The corners of her mouth tugged up into a small, knowing smile. It'd been a while since they'd danced around each other like that, without words or pretense. Obi-Wan could almost lose herself in it. Only the rush of blood pumping hard in her ears grounded her, and she understood, for a moment, the release Anakin must have felt in motion.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

_ “It was never a problem, but it’s starting to be one now, and it unsettles me. I try to communicate with myself, but it’s impossible to do so. There’s no greater distance than the space between two minds […] the most distressing thing of all would be for you to think that I am happy. If only you knew.” _

_ — Enrique Vila-Matas, Dublinesque _

_ \-- _

_ “Come on, dance with me. The earth is spinning. We can’t just stand on it.” _

_ — Dino Ahmetović _

\--

“Again.”

Obi-Wan felt the Force bristle around Anakin where she stood across the courtyard, pricking like raised hackles, her frustration a low, simmering thing. The last of the younglings shuffled back into the cool of the temple behind their crèche master, chattering away, and then they were alone. Rivulets of sweat dripped a tickling line down Obi-Wan’s neck to soak the collar of her underlayer shirt. The long shadow of the central spire blanketed both master and Padawan, but it did little to dispel the thick, gnashing heat of the afternoon sun. The training bond twanged between them with mutual exhaustion. Obi-Wan rolled her neck and shoulders as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, joints popping as she attempted to alleviate her own discomfort.

“Ugh. Master, I’m  _ tired.  _ Can’t we just call it a day?” Anakin pleaded.

“As am I, my young Padawan, but as I recall,  _ you _ were the one who asked to spar after your lessons,” Obi-Wan replied coolly, pushing her sweat-slick hair from her forehead.

“Oh, come on!”

Far be it from Obi-Wan to be petulant, but Anakin had, in fact, nearly dragged her master from where she had settled comfortably on the couch to spar. She’d been perfectly content to quiz Anakin on the day’s lessons from across the living room curled around a mug of cooling tea, lazily reviewing a datapad. That was apparently not the sort of evening Anakin had in mind. Obi-Wan attempted to read the same sentence to herself for the third time over. Whatever Holonet channel that had been playing was muted and forgotten where it flashed above the low table, casting Anakin’s pinched expression in blue. Even with both their usual shields intact, a familiar restlessness prickled along the ghost of the strands that connected them, an agitated tangle of aborted thoughts and intentions that ebbed out into the recycled air in their quarters. 

Obi-Wan could only imagine what the volume of the Force felt like to Anakin just then, so obviously pent up from sitting behind her own pile of datapads all day. As to whether she’d actually been  _ studying _ them- well, she couldn’t fault her student for slacking off a bit. They’d been planetside for weeks, now. The first had been a welcome reprieve, but now even Obi-Wan was growing a bit restless as the days stretched inexorably long in the ever unchanging halls of the temple. She found a little solace in her daily excursions through the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and tried, with growing effort, to be grateful for a break that some of her fellow Jedi could only dream of. 

Anakin’s restlessness, however, was another thing entirely. Meditation did not come easily to her. The stress it caused her to give herself to the whims of the Force, even for just a little while, negated the point of the exercise almost entirely. She’d join Obi-Wan in the gardens some evenings, when they had no further obligations and the quiet of the evening stretched long before them. And sometimes, Anakin would allow herself to be guided into meditation with her master, sitting cross-legged across from her, their knees barely touching. More often than not, though, she simply sat and watched, losing herself in the crash of the waterfalls and the gentle cycles of light and shadow filtering down through the lush boughs above. Obi-Wan knew no other person, no other being whose mind gave them no choice but to acknowledge every moment so acutely. It must’ve been exhausting.

Ever sympathetic, Obi-Wan heeded her Padawan’s carefully phrased request ( _ “Really? Man, I thought you were gonna tell me to- well, it doesn’t matter. Let’s hurry up before someone else gets the same idea and steals our spot.” _ ) and allowed her to eagerly lead them both into the thrumming heart of the temple. She couldn’t possibly deny her this, even if the slip of an excuse as ‘moving meditation’ was laughable. There was almost nothing meditative about the way Anakin fought, as volatile as her spirit and brimming with just as much youthful energy. The way each hit and parry shone bright and true in the Force was nearly the same in its soothing effect, though, easing in that wild tension like a winding spool. Whatever Anakin was holding on to would dissipate after a few rounds, and there was no reason Obi-Wan couldn’t turn an exercise in form into a mental one as well. It would be good for both of them, and Obi-Wan was never above sneaking in a lesson.

They walked in amicable silence, out past the emptying training rooms, nodding polite hellos to passing Jedi, likely headed to their own quarters as they finished their duties for the day. As they broke into the quiet courtyard, sheer rapture burst bright white into the bond, like light shining through beneath a door. It still floored her a little, even after all this time.

_ You’re projecting, _ Obi-Wan pushed, smiling softly to herself. Both their shields lowered fully in tandem, Anakin’s light pink embarrassment billowing out as sensation flooded her. 

_ Sorry. Just excited. _ An understatement if there ever was one. They warmed up, side by side, before turning to one another with matched determination.

Now, four rounds later, Obi-Wan slipped easily back into Soresu’s opening stance for what would be, with any luck, the last time that afternoon. “I won’t repeat myself. Ataru, this time.”

Anakin groaned and rolled her eyes as if she’d just been asked to scrub the scorch marks she’d made on the kitchen table rather than given permission to show off the form she’d spent the last few weeks working tirelessly to perfect. Obi-Wan snapped the band of their bond like a flick to the forehead and waited. Anakin grumbled something unintelligible, shucking off her tunic and tossing it aside before sinking her weight into her back leg, lighting her saber with a click.

The sudden memory of the little slave girl from Tatooine snagged like a barbed hook in Obi-Wan’s mind as she blinked at her young apprentice. She was admittedly not so young anymore, almost unrecognizable beside the memory of the tiny girl with blonde curls cut too short for a proper Padawan braid. A decade’s time had shaped her into something nebulous, not quite an adult. Only the burning spark in her eyes remained unchanged. At nineteen years old, Anakin perched precariously on the precipice of maturity. The thin braid grown long behind her ear marked one of the last remaining vestiges of her youth. She’d filled almost fully into her gangly teenage height, wiry and strong. While she was typically one to show off, Anakin’s glowing pride in her growing strength was a modest thing, but Obi-Wan sometimes caught her flexing her biceps in the living room mirror after a sonic and shook her head, smirking to herself. Even the roundness of her face that once made her look even younger than her years, much to Anakin's perpetual annoyance, had recently given way to a cutting jawline. It marked her growth in a way the improved marks on her studies would never show.

If she'd only wear the more traditional lighter robes, Obi-Wan thought, she'd look just like any other Knight. Shaking her head, Obi-Wan tamped down the image, willing herself not to project it across like her unruly Padawan. Anakin’s curiously twinkling presence met hers once more with a sharp, knowing nod.

She blinked again and then Anakin was on her, eyes as wild as her stance. Obi-Wan parried the first blow easily, scoffing as she threw her weight forward to knock her opponent back. “Wrists,” she chided with a smooth pivot.

The shift of tension was immediate. Anakin slackened her wrists as instructed, earning herself a warm wave of encouragement across the bond. Obi-Wan smiled softly to herself, absently wiping sweat from her brow as she blocked a much more practiced blow. 

“Very good,” she breathed, stepping back, saber held high. Anakin gave her a pointed look, sizing up the space between them. Calculating. Waiting.

Some low, rumbling part of her  _ wanted _ to see Anakin show off, wanted to see the product of her careful instruction, of Anakin’s hard work. The bond rippled lightly between them, satisfaction wrought clear across Anakin’s face. The corners of her mouth tugged up into a small, knowing smile. It'd been a while since they'd danced around each other like that, without words or pretense. Obi-Wan could almost lose herself in it. Only the rush of blood pumping hard in her ears grounded her, and she understood, for a moment, the release Anakin must have felt in motion.

Obi-Wan flicked her saber in an expectant taunt. Crouching into a running start, Anakin sank low, the tip of her blade scorching a wide arc into the ground, and she leapt. In a flurry of light, Anakin rolled in midair, arms whipping up to strike before bringing her saber down hard.

Oh, she was getting  _ good. _

Above the hiss and crackle of their crossed blades where they met, Obi-Wan leveled her voice. “Beautifully done, Anakin.”

They broke apart, breathing hard as they circled one another from a distance. Eyes flicking from her face to her hands, Anakin yanked the band from her hair before shaking her head, long wet curls glinting in the golden light. 

“That’s the first time I’ve actually landed that one right.” She smiled bashfully as she panted, but the heady buzz of satisfaction she was projecting betrayed the warmth dusting her cheeks. The shared emotion would’ve drowned a lesser master. The tendrils of delight licked lazily across the bond and Obi-Wan shut her eyes for just a moment, letting the feeling wrap around her. The motes of dust in the dying sunlight gratefully embraced her in all the ways Anakin didn’t - hadn’t since she was half her height.

Obi-Wan looked up, the tip of her saber pointed downward as she left herself open. Lest she reveal her own swelling joy, she quickly pushed Anakin’s warmth back twofold, reeling them both into an internal feedback loop of  _ happy-good-proud-thank you,  _ a bright yellow relay of heat that matched the setting sun.

“You’ll do it once more before we’re done for the day,” Obi-Wan replied, breaking the trance and clipping her powered saber. She turned to strip the heaviest of her tabards from where it stuck to her back. Sweat had begun to pool uncomfortably between her shoulder blades, and they were not quite finished. The setting sun was relentless even through the filmy atmosphere of Coruscant, but Obi-Wan wanted to push Anakin just a little further before they went back to their quarters for the night. There was some untapped energy, something muted but wild pushing against some unseen barrier in her Padawan’s mind. She felt it earlier, knocking around like a caged animal. She’d thought it to be merely an echo of her restlessness, but as Anakin released her clenched jaw and straightened her posture more with each round, it remained. If anything, that little hidden ball agitation only rattled its chains, baring its teeth even as the rest of her frustration ebbed lazily out into the Force. 

She’d give it one more go. Maybe this way, it would fizzle out like the rest, and Obi-Wan could avoid prodding. Anakin hated being sat down, immediately drawing up all her barriers before being asked a single question. She’d become only slightly less defensive over the years, but no matter how carefully she was coaxed, it was still a struggle to get Anakin to open up. This way, on her terms, was much easier for both of them. Even if Anakin didn’t know it.

Obi-Wan folded her robe rather untidily and set it behind her on the low barrier wall, feeling eyes bore into her back as she took a few greedy gulps from her water bottle, gone lukewarm in the heat.

The bond crackled a little with something unfamiliar, but it disappeared just as quickly. Obi-Wan quirked a brow over her shoulder and Anakin said nothing for a moment before seeming to remember herself all at once. “Wait. Earlier you said I only had to-”

“And I want to hear your intended contact mark with each strike,” Obi-Wan cut her off, though not unkindly, turning back to her Padawan. Her brows furrowed at Anakin’s unreadable expression as she readied herself, flicking her saber to life, sinking her weight back into Soresu's opening block. The muscles in her thighs stung almost pleasurably with exertion. The sun was starting to set slowly over the temple, and her stomach threatened to growl something fierce. She would finish this quickly, then. “Land that same hit one more time and you’ll be dismissed.”

Resigned, Anakin nodded and stepped into her earlier stance with slightly more finesse, her posture relaxed with fatigue. She drew a deep, slow breath in through her nose, then let it out in a huff, focusing a trickle of cool calm into the bond. "Don't go easy on me, master."

“Keep your form tight and I won't have any need to. Begin.”

Anakin took her time, drawing it out, eyeing potential openings with burning glances as she crouched low and predatory. She danced just outside the undrawn circle between them and Obi-Wan matched each half-step around in tandem, her stance unwavering.

Then, without warning, Anakin flew forward all at once in a whirl of blue light, meeting her master blow for blow in a vicious frenzy. Loose-limbed and worn from round after round of sparring, Anakin slipped languidly into the practiced grace of Ataru. Her form was impeccable this time, near perfect. Obi-Wan couldn’t help the pride that rushed from her as she met every strike. Anakin’s elegance and raw talent were  _ dazzling. _ The empty courtyard grew dimmer as the sun sank lower still, halfway covered by the roof of the temple, but the Force glimmered all around them. In the middle of it all, Anakin's signature radiated blooms of yellows and oranges, glowing citrine hues that plucked harmoniously at the taut strands connecting her mind with her master's.

" _ Cho Mai _ ," Anakin grit out as she landed heavy on her feet, saber slamming into Obi-Wan's quick defense. They held each other there, neither giving any ground.

"Correct," she replied through git teeth, grunting as she pushed Anakin's weight back from her intended mark. Her unbridled approval rippled through the bond. "And why," she panted, "why might one choose  _ Cho Mai  _ over  _ Cho Mok _ ?"

Anakin laughed, twirling backward into a flourishing defense. "Because severing your  _ dominant _ hand would end the fight much quicker."

The corners of her mouth twitched, but Anakin rolled sideways and sprung forward before Obi-Wan could even begin her next thought.

“And  _ Shiim _ ,” Anakin clipped, slicing a sweeping line from hip to shoulder, “for when I don’t want to end the fight just yet.” Had it hit, the cut would have been a shallow, scathing thing, barely leaving a scar. It required a high level of practice and discipline to ensure the cut was disabling without being fatal, and Anakin’s control was flawless. Obi-Wan took her bottom lip between her teeth, nostrils flared as she bit back a smile.

The metal hilts of their sabers clinked where they met, the plasma blades locked in a searing cross between the pair. Dusk began to cool the air around them but all Obi-Wan felt was raw heat, the warmth licking like a flickering flame in the tendrils of the bond and the soft puffs of Anakin’s breath on her face.

“ _ Very _ good, Padawan,” she murmured, just above the pounding hammer of her pulse.

Face flushed, Anakin grinned, and suddenly that unnameable note that hummed between them rang so loud it was deafening. They jumped back from each other like it burned, Obi-Wan struggling to catch her breath. Undeterred, Anakin rolled and feinted left where her master distractedly left herself open.

It was a sloppy mistake, but not one she couldn't recover from. Ears still ringing, she made a risky call, arcing her body in a jump backwards to land on one hand, springing back further with a Force-assisted push to the warm duracrete. She landed heavily on the balls of her feet, just in time to catch Anakin’s upswing with her own blade.

As if she planned it herself, Anakin smirked and pressed forward with a rakish grin, calling on the Force to push Obi-Wan back and back, elbows locked as her boots scraped hard where they dragged against the ground.  _ Uh oh. _

Obi-Wan choked on a gasp as the small of her back hit the low barrier wall  _ hard.  _ Her sloppily folded robe remained untouched, but her arm, flailing for purchase, sent her water bottle flying over the edge and onto soft grass below. She held fast, feet scrabbling against the ground as she sunk her weight down to stabilize herself, gripping her saber like a vice. 

With the smallest flick of her wrist, Anakin cut an effortless arc near Obi-Wan’s ribs, sabers scarcely grazing one another. In an instant she was retreating, graciously allowing her master a beat to recover.

Gulping breaths too quickly to speak, Anakin sent the vague gesture of her meaning across the bond instead. “ _ Shiim, again. _ ”

_ “Yes. Correct. Well done,”  _ Obi-Wan nudged back weakly as she found her footing once more, giving the wall behind her a much wider berth.

Grasping for some sort of tell, Obi-Wan trained her eyes on Anakin as she stalked the imaginary circle of the ring, anticipating her next attack. Unable to see what she might be playing at, Obi-Wan could only guess why she wouldn’t just take the hit then, why she didn’t get it over with, why she didn't just take the leap so they could both hit the ‘fresher and head inside for dinner before the night slipped away from them.

“Come now, Anakin. You don’t think you can land it again?” she tried, masking her tone, hoping to elicit Anakin’s predictable response to being goaded.

A breath passed between them. 

“I know I can. I’m just waiting for you to slip up again.” Raw determination colored her face, their bond flashing lush and green as Anakin snapped at it, annoyed.  _ Perfect. _

This time, Obi-Wan was ready, taking in each movement with rapt attention. She steeled herself as Anakin ran, leapt, curled in on herself and spun before bringing her saber down fiercely. Anakin’s weight on her was impossibly heavy, Obi-Wan thought, as she bore oppressively down and down - before she hit the ground with a shout.

The air was punched from Obi-Wan’s gut in a strangled sound, saber flying and skidding far across the yard where she could no longer see, too focused on the blade hovering mere inches from her throat. The air stilled on all sides around them, until there was nothing within their shared scope of awareness save for the matching flush of their faces and the dangerously narrowing space between Anakin’s blade and the delicate skin of Obi-Wan’s neck.

Anakin panted above her, swallowing thickly. “ _ Sai Cha. _ ” With a click, the plasma blade disappeared into the metal hilt of the saber, that sizzling heat vanishing with it.

Dizzy and reeling, Obi-Wan’s hands twitched almost imperceptibly, potent pride that she did not recognize as fully her own reverberating in her skull with the proximity. Something hot and treacherous and  _ good  _ sunk its teeth into Obi-Wan’s pounding heart, crawled its way under her skin. Horror and pride warred in her mind and pinned her in place. “That is- that is  _ not _ the move I instructed you to land,” she managed, voice cracking.

They’re too close, far too close, she couldn’t move, couldn’t  _ breathe.  _ That was not how this was supposed to go. She needed to extract herself immediately, get up, gulp water until there was nothing but air,  _ something.  _ She did none of it, frozen, slamming her shields up with such speed Anakin winced above her at the sudden loss. The air around them settled, cool and sharp, buzzing nerves dulling to a low, quiet hum.

Anakin clipped her blade to her side and the world attempted to right itself again as she stood, offering her hand. “Oh. It isn’t? My mistake.”

Their palms met warm and dry as Obi-Wan let herself be pulled up. “Master Yoda would have your head if he saw you practice such a thing.”

“Not before I had yours.”

Later, with only the sounds of the sonic hissing distantly and the water boiling on the stove to fill the dark expanse of their quarters, Obi-Wan braced herself against the sobering cold of the kitchen counter and sighed.  _ What in the blazes was all that back there? _

What  _ should _ have been concerning was Anakin’s unhesitating use of an outlawed technique. What  _ should  _ have been concerning was her lack of remorse after the fact. What  _ should  _ have been concerning was the swirling pool of emotions Obi-Wan had felt, knocking against the barriers of Anakin’s mind, threatening to overtake them both.

Her hand mindlessly grazed her neck and she shivered at the ghost of a blow that never landed. Anakin would never use such a move in true combat. She wouldn’t. She was excited, she’d said so herself. She was showing off. She’s a teenager. She was testing the space of her boundaries, testing the hold of their walls. 

_ And I encouraged her, _ was the treacherous thought that snarled from the recesses of Obi-Wan’s hindbrain.  _ I led her to the edge and all but told her to jump. _

The kettle whistled. The sonic went silent. Obi-Wan breathed a deep, centering breath, feeling both much too young and far, far too old.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is no smut here i am so sorry. my monkey brain wanted to write purple prose and thirty thousand run on sentences. nobody talks about their feelings! everyone yearns like an idiot! anakin, no! don't use that training bond! it's stale and way past its expiration date!

The vast tunnel of light yawned wide outside the panes of transparisteel that separated Obi-Wan’s temporary room aboard the  _ Resolute  _ from the cold, time-warping vacuum of hyperspace. She padded lightly over to the window from the doorway of the ‘fresher, only a few footsteps across the closet of a space, to gaze out into the winding glow that stretched eternally outward. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was aboard her own ship. She could pretend to be in her own quarters, wearing her own unborrowed sleep clothes that didn’t sag pitifully low along the bruised lines of her limbs. Maybe she could go through the motions of filling out missives and reports without staring blankly out into the swirling blue as if focusing hard enough would bring  _ The Negotiator _ into view. Like it was simply lagging shortly behind Anakin’s flagship, as if she were aboard it as a convenience and not because she’d been ordered to leave her ship, her captain, her commander- all of her men behind in the uninhabited wilds of Ohma-D'un.

It was the safest option, hovering above the surface of the moon, the great belly of the ship hugging entire klicks of untouched swaths of hills and forests. Support had already been en route from Naboo when they’d left atmo, Anakin had assured her, sending her a pointed look across the transport that made Obi-Wan’s stomach clench. She bit back a retort, feeling wildly unsettled as she’d gripped the grab bar above her like a vice. Admiral Block and Commander Cody were fine men, they were trained for this, and were perfectly capable of leading the 212th to rendezvous in her stead. There was little that could go awry under their supervision in the few days it would take to catch up to them once repairs were finished. 

That wasn’t what worried her, though. There was no reason such a simple thing as a localized and otherwise contained coolant leak should have spiralled so quickly into so many problems. They had systems in place to detect these things, protocols that would’ve been followed, numerous procedures meant to prevent an entire Venator-class Star Destroyer from being grounded for something so trivial. And yet, Anakin had so easily dismissed her to her guest quarters with a tired smile, assuring her that everything would be fine once both ships were back planetside on Coruscant. For now, they would just have to wait.

A stray drop of water trickled down the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. It reminded her of other, much simpler times. Hot water on demand, unrationed. The luxury of a comb for her untrimmed hair. When was the last time she’d been able to cut it? When would she have even found the time? With a sigh, she swiped away the bothersome remnant of her shower from her neck and moved to sit on the edge of her cot. The sheet was crisp and cool and freshly laundered. A welcome luxury.

Obi-Wan made quick work of braiding her hair loosely before realizing she had nothing to tie it back. With a sigh, she tossed it over her shoulder. She had no meetings, no appointments, no reason to leave her rooms at all except to eat until they broke from hyperspace in a few days’ time. There would be no one to see her stretch lazily across the expanse of the cot, no one to hear the satisfying pop and crack of her joints as she tested the tension of the bone-deep ache in her muscles, no one to judge the unrefined slouch of her limbs as she perched on her cot, curled over her datapad, losing herself in half-finished documents.

The practiced vernacular of Council meetings and mission reports flowed easily from her mind to the tips of her fingers as she tapped away. Time slid sideways like ribbon in a slackening grip. With a yawn, Obi-Wan pushed herself up to sit properly, easing the tender ache in her shoulder as it pulsed its opposition to her poor posture. She shook her head and sniffed, her bangs now dry and tickling as they grazed her cheek.

A familiar presence ticked like a tap on the shoulder at the back of her mind, the dregs of something she couldn’t yet place stirring themselves from stasis. Obi-Wan wrinkled her nose, straightened herself above the standard issue quilt, now rumpled under her weight. It was late. Obi-Wan had felt the lights of hundreds of souls around her slowly dim as the 501st settled into their bunks. Even Anakin would be-

As if on cue, Anakin’s signature brushed a question against her mind. She was close, then. Silence. The approaching click of footsteps, then a quick, singular rap on her door. 

“Come in, she said reflexively, even as her mind struggled sluggishly along.

A cold, sobering blast of air rushed in with the change in air pressure, but it was gone just as quickly, the closing door shutting out the muffled swarm of lights and sounds from the lower level hall.

“I could feel you overthinking all the way from the bridge,” Anakin said. The warmth of her presence filled the room in an instant and Obi-Wan felt a knot of tension melt at the base of her neck that she hadn’t realized was there. The brightness of Anakin’s Force signature grazed hers once more, doubling down with exhaustion that was only half her own.

Anakin frowned as she leaned over the desk, appraising the stack of discarded datapads fanned out across its surface. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I might have been before you started jabbing at me,” Obi-Wan said, voice pitching up in defense that surprised even herself.

“You didn’t pick up your comlink. I came to check on you.” Anakin looked up, brow furrowed, as if she was trying very hard to see outside the window at Obi-Wan’s back. “And with good reason, apparently. You look like you haven’t slept in  _ weeks _ .”

“I have been sleeping plenty,” Obi-Wan said, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. She was being childish. Four months on campaign was the longest they’d been apart, at least since Anakin was a teenager. She should relish any time they were lucky enough to cross paths, however dubious the circumstances. Not starting an argument that wasn’t there to be had.

Anakin wiggled into the chair at the little desk tucked into the corner. Seeming to think better of it she pulled her legs up under her, crossing them in a mock lotus pose. “Meditation doesn’t count.”

Obi-Wan frowned. There was no denying that.

With a sigh, she glanced up to find Anakin fiddling with her sleeve where it was tucked into the seal of her glove. She turned back to her discarded missive, sitting up straight before doubling down on her efforts to focus. She had only just recovered where she’d left off when Anakin’s signature nudged curiously against hers once more.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I am happy to share my space with you, but I cannot focus with you pawing at my mind.”

“Oh, am I bothering you?”

“For at least twelve years now, yes.”

Anakin snorted. “I can leave.”

“That’s not what I-”

“ _ If  _ you promise me you’ll go to bed when I go.”

“I am perfectly capable of deciding my own sleep schedule, thank you.”

“Then I guess I’m going to be here for a while.”

Obi-Wan clicked her mouth shut and bit the inside of her cheek. Through handheld holos and news transmissions, Anakin was every bit of the peerless tactician and fearless general the holonet made her out to be. But here, alone, with the one person who understood her best, Anakin was a twenty-two year old with the lives of thousands resting on her shoulders. Obi-Wan didn’t have it in her to begrudge her of something as easily given as her time.

“Make yourself comfortable, then,” she said plainly, not bothering to look up. “I’ve got two more allocation requests to fill out after this.”

They sat there in companionable silence. Obi-Wan found herself sloughing forms from her list much more efficiently with the soothing balm of her former Padawan’s presence only feet away. She’d almost finished her last form when the chair creaked.

Obi-Wan nearly jumped as her datapad was plucked deftly from her hands and discarded amongst the rest. Anakin stood above her, blocking out the overhead light.

“Can I help you? I was almost done.”

Anakin smirked, knocking Obi-Wan’s knees aside as she stepped between them, crowding the already stifling space. “I know.”

Obi-Wan cleared her throat and tried again. “I thought the point of this was ensuring I actually got my work done so I could go to sleep.”

“It was.”

“Then what is it now?”

Anakin’s signature needled insistently against Obi-Wan’s thinning shields, slipping its syncopated tempo against the beat of her heart. “I was just thinking-”

“Dangerous thing, that.”

“- I was  _ thinking _ about how much I missed you.”

_ I miss you, too, _ she didn’t say.

With nothing to grasp, Obi-Wan flexed her fingers against her pants. They were Anakin’s pants, actually. Left for her in a neatly folded pile on the ‘fresher counter when she’d finally made her way to  _ Anakin’s _ spare quarters on  _ Anakin’s  _ ship- 

Anakin huffed. “You’re doing it again. Your brain must be in knots the way you’re twisting it around in there.”

Obi-Wan stomach flipped. “How are you still doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“I’m shielding right now. Can you sense me through that?”

“I can always feel you.” Anakin's glance darted worriedly across the other’s face, the persistent knock of her signature fading to a dull but steady pressure. “You can’t feel me?”

Obi-Wan looked away, her face warm as she brought a hand up from her lap to rub her chin. 

Just as quickly, Anakin snatched Obi-Wan’s wrist up in the warm palm of her hand, and there it was again: that nagging feeling that threatened to blossom into a headache at the base of her skull.

“Lower your shields for me. I want to try something.” A moment passed. “Please.”

The simple task seemed suddenly insurmountable, but Obi-Wan was so very tired. Without startling, without questioning, without protesting, she closed her eyes.

She breathed, focusing on the pitifully wobbling barrier and the place where it seemed to bow against a ball of billowing golden light. 

_ Anakin. _

Another breath. She held it. Unclenched her fist. Released. For a moment, after she’d cautiously peeled back that last gauzy curtain that separated them, the world around her fell away into dust.

Distantly, Obi-Wan felt solid fingers intertwine with her own. Then, where their palms met, a rush of tingling sensation flooded across her nerves, a crashing wave that sunk marrow-deep. It ran from her fingers to her wrist, up her arm and across her shoulder before dripping honeyed warmth down into the heaving cavern of her chest.

“Ah. There you are. Do you feel that?” Anakin sounded far away, but how could she have been? She was everywhere. The crisp scent of her soap, the warm cloud of her breath, the rough callus on her thumb that rubbed agonizing circles against Obi-Wan’s knuckle.

There was an unintelligible sound that Obi-Wan belatedly realized was her own choked voice.

Anakin laughed and gave a squeeze before letting both their hands part and fall away.

Sucking in a cold breath through her teeth, Obi-Wan blinked in an attempt to right herself as the bleary silhouette in front of her slowly became Anakin once more.

“ _ Shiim, _ ” Anakin grinned to herself, her nose wrinkling with the ghost of laughter.

The vague feeling of whiplash struck Obi-Wan in the chest as she tried to still her stuttering breaths, her consciousness still swimming in the stretched taffy of her mind. It felt like Anakin had pushed every piece of furniture in their apartment two inches to the left when she wasn't looking. "What?”

“Your hand. It just reminded me of something," she mused, looking with wonder down at her own gloved palm, curling each finger individually in to make a fist. "That time I kicked your butt in the courtyard. Do you remember?"

The memory barrelled sharp and bright to the front of her mind with startling clarity. Obi-Wan could count on one hand how many times Anakin had bested her in a casual sparring match. There was no way she could forget that muggy afternoon, that dark pocket of Anakin's mind that she could never reach had haunted her dreams. She frowned, her brow knit as she muddled through the echo of her emotions that day. She chose her words carefully.

“If I remember correctly, you employed an outdated and illegal move in order to do so.”

“But I still did it!" Anakin beamed, undeterred. “You were so proud, too." 

“Of your blatant disregard for the rules?”

“Of me. You didn’t say it, but I could feel it.” Anakin leaned over her, hemming her in against the seam between the cot and the wall, and tapped two flesh fingers against her temple. "Up here."

“I was impressed, yes," Obi-Wan whispered, the admission slipping out in a hiss. "You remembered every contact mark from your lessons." She struggled to keep her eyes open as syrupy heat lanced straight through Anakin's fingers into her temple, dripping waxy and thick into her skull. She'd let this charade go on too long and now she was in too deep. Some cool, muffled part of her brain screamed at her to move, but her body stayed still, pliant under the warmth of the bond as its frayed ends brushed lazily against each other, yearning to knit together, if only she willed them.

Anakin hummed and dropped her hand once more, blissfully unaware of the dangerous line she was walking. "I was a good student."

“When you wanted to be.”

Anakin’s eyes locked with hers, steady and piercing. “I always want to be a good student, Master.”

_ Master.  _ Obi-Wan’s vision swam. A single word cleaved her in two.

In a strike of torrid clarity, Obi-Wan understood not only how gravely she’d failed as a teacher, but as a woman.

Her voice was weak when she finally said, “A good student would let their Master finish their work.”

Ignoring her, Anakin’s eyes flicked down to Obi-Wan’s lap, where she’d picked a cuticle close to bleeding. Anakin gently flipped her former master’s shaking hand, curling the cool metal of her thumb and forefinger around her wrist, and pressed two curious fingers against her pounding pulsepoint. “Do you remember what this is called? I’m having a hard time remembering now.”

The air around them felt close to scorching. Anakin was radiating fiercely, Obi-Wan realized too late, as her signature unfurled into her own unguarded mind, jostling their energy around until Anakin nearly enveloped her, swallowed her whole, blissfully unaware of the power she held.

The air felt punched out of her in an instant. She knew this game. Like two sheets of printed filmsiplast held to the light, the memory of Anakin standing over her two summers past, holding the searing blade of a lightsaber to her neck, slid perfectly over the present. Obi-Wan swallowed, willing her pounding heart to settle as she struggled against a weight only she could feel. She did not dare to move as words tumbled out of her.

_ “Cho Mai,”  _ she replied, so soft she wasn’t sure Anakin had heard. “A cut at the base of the wrist. To sever your opponent’s dominant hand.”

Anakin smiled softly and slid her palm up and up, to the crease of Obi-Wan’s elbow. “Here, then. I don’t remember this one, either.”

“ _ Cho Sun.” _ Heat licked up her spine, pinning her in place under Anakin’s thoughtful gaze.

Anakin didn’t wait for her to elaborate, sliding her palm up further to the sore curve of her shoulder, then across her collarbone, the expanse of her chest, settling just above her racing heart. Metal plating caught lightly on the thin fabric of the borrowed linen sleep shirt. The scrape of it drove thousands of pinpricks into her skin.

“And if I were to strike you here?” Anakin’s breath was hot on her cheek.

_ I feel as though you already have. _

The thought was too loud for her not to have projected it, and the way Anakin’s presence reared against hers in response said everything. Obi-Wan made a feeble attempt to raise her shields, but they dropped in an instant at her lack of conviction.

Anakin swiped her tongue against the flat of a tooth, grinning wolfishly. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, too, Master. For shame.” 

“It’s  _ Shiak, _ ” Obi-Wan managed, her mind gone gummy as Anakin all but crawled into her lap. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to mute her signature, pulling her awareness close and small into her chest.

Relentless, Anakin’s fingers dragged down further, past Obi-Wan’s sternum, her eyes following. The cabin seemed to shrink in that moment, the walls driving impossibly inward to close them off in that small space at the edge of the bed.

“ _ Sai Tok _ ,” Obi-Wan whispered, unprompted, unthinking. Time trickled slowly into a pause as the Force crackled hot, like the premonition of a thunderstorm on parched earth.

Anakin slid her hand down and down and down, over Obi-Wan’s hip to rest on the fat of her thigh, her flesh hand settling gently on the other, caging her in. She stepped closer still, filling up the space between Obi-Wan’s legs, nudging them apart.

“And this, Master?”

Obi-Wan shut her eyes, trembling. Her breath caught quick in her throat, her heartbeat a wild, flighty thing. “Forbidden. You know that.”

“Tell me anyway.” she squeezed so lightly that Obi-Wan thought she might have imagined it, her mind drunk from the contact, overstimulated beyond coherence.

“ _ Mou Kei, _ ” she breathed, impossibly still. “An absolute last resort. One would have to be in dire straits to brutalize another sentient so cruelly. A Jedi would never _ -”  _

A strangled noise bubbled up out of Obi-Wan’s throat as Anakin dug her fingers into her legs, driving new bruises into the soft flesh. 

“Anakin-”

_ Master. _

It hit like a shock to her nervous system, lighting her nerves up, white-hot. It was the barest thread between them, spindly and thin, twinkling as though twisting in the light. As if she couldn’t believe it, Obi-Wan plucked at the link to Anakin’s mind, jumping as she felt the twang reverberate right back to her. The muscles of her stomach clenched involuntarily as a thumb rubbed absent circles on the inside of her thigh, so dangerously close to the seam of her leggings.

“Anakin,” she tried again, wetting her lips.

And Anakin-  _ oh. _

Just then, Anakin looked at her with so much love and hope and raw, churning want, it spilled over into the feeble new bond, a stream of pink and violet and gold, the color of a Coruscanti sunset. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

_ More than I should have ever let myself, _ she thought, face hot, breaths coming quick.  _ More than you should ever be willing to give. _

The cot creaked as Anakin pressed her weight forward. 

At the last second, Obi-Wan turned away, and Anakin’s nose brushed soft and clumsy against her cheek. 

She pulled away with a start. “Obi-Wan, I-”

“I need to rest,” Obi-Wan said hurriedly against the burning ache in her throat. Every muscle in her body was pulled taut as a drawn bow. If Anakin didn’t release her, she was going to have no choice but to surge forward, or snap under the tension. She didn’t know which scared her more. She brought a trembling hand to Anakin’s shoulder and set it there without pushing. It was all she could do.

The bond pulsed as Anakin made a wounded sound in the back of her throat, but she peeled herself away all the same. The door opened and closed once more. Obi-Wan did not turn to see. 

She remained in her quarters the rest of the trip, paperwork forgotten. Anakin did not return, and Rex interrupted her subdued meditation only once to let her know they’d be entering realspace within the hour. Even without reaching into the Force, she still felt Anakin’s hurt across the bond as it throbbed in her in her own gut like an open wound.

She’d treat it like the rest. A patch job. Suck it up, keep moving.

The buzz of trillions of lives growing nearer and nearer as they breached atmo was grounding. It almost muffled the gnawing ache that stretched its thread across the entire length of the  _ Resolute _ . 

Almost. 

In the ‘fresher mirror, as she straightened her tunic and clipped her belt, Obi-Wan schooled her expression.

_ There is peace. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise the next chapter will have the content i know you all really came here for, ya filthy animals.

**Author's Note:**

> part one of two. part two will contain explicit content.


End file.
